<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>safe in your arms by BookFangirlMaryJane</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092525">safe in your arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookFangirlMaryJane/pseuds/BookFangirlMaryJane'>BookFangirlMaryJane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TARDIS Advent Calendar Prompts [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Decorations, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, TARDIS Advent Calendar, Telepathy, Thoschei, Time Lord Telepathy (Doctor Who), they have their own telepathy tag? wow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:15:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookFangirlMaryJane/pseuds/BookFangirlMaryJane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I bet my TARDIS looks better than yours once I’m done decorating her.”</p>
<p>--o--</p>
<p>TARDIS Advent Calendar (by Valc0), prompt for today is 'When decorating the TARDIS becomes a competition'.</p>
<p>Warnings: post-s12. Slight angst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TARDIS Advent Calendar Prompts [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>safe in your arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This... was not supposed to be angsty.<br/>But then the Doctor tripped over something and found herself in danger and oops, now there's angst. But there's also fluff to balance it out? So, y'know...</p>
<p>It's post-series 12 but mostly without spoilers... I don't know. They're both repressing what happened? That sounds plausible. Neither of them really talks about their trauma, anyway...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I bet my TARDIS looks better than yours once I’m done decorating her.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That one sentence sparked this madness, and in hindsight, the Doctor wishes she never said it. The glint in the Master’s eyes had been all too familiar, and she wants to smack herself for not recognizing it immediately, curses herself for ever thinking he wouldn’t take on the challenge.</p>
<p>He did, of course. Got up from the couch, leaving her stumped and mourning the loss of his body next to hers, and declared that he would not stand for this slander and that his TARDIS obviously was the superior one in terms of style. Then he left, just like that.</p>
<p>And now she stares at him, wrapping soft yellow Christmas lights around his porch, utterly focused. Her eyes flicker over to the pine tree lying by his feet, gutted and spilling twigs everywhere. She doesn’t even know where he got that thing from in the ten minutes since he left. She didn't hear him take off.</p>
<p>“You’re serious about this?” the Doctor finds herself asking.</p>
<p>Without stopping, the Master agrees: “I am. My TARDIS is going to look <strong>magnificent</strong> next to your little box. You can give up now, of course, spare yourself the embarrassment.”</p>
<p>A choked laugh slips over her lips. “If anything, <strong>you</strong> should give up! Before I start getting out the good stuff. Your hut is gonna look so shabby next to my TARDIS!”</p>
<p>He chuckles, still not looking away from fixing the lights, and <strong>damn</strong> him, but it actually looks better like that.</p>
<p>With a scoff, the Doctor turns around and disappears in her TARDIS. He is <strong>not</strong> gonna win this one. Oh, just wait until she starts decorating!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A short trip later, the Doctor is wrestling a small tree into her TARDIS, followed by boxes upon boxes of decorations, Christmas lights, greenery and whatever else caught her eye. Her TARDIS is gonna be so incredibly sparkly! He’s gonna be so devastated when she wins this!</p>
<p>To make sure he can’t cheat (that would be so him, wouldn’t it?) the Doctor stays inside and decorates the control room first. Her TARDIS helps. Apparently, she likes the idea of looking pretty for Christmas. Together, they transform the yellow pillars into something that looks a lot like candy canes, white and red striped.</p>
<p>The Doctor makes several wreaths out of the greenery, ties them to her waist and climbs the pillars to artfully wrap them around the ends of the pillars. That looks very pretty, she thinks with a smile. The old girl agrees with a cheerful beep.</p>
<p>“What do you say, is this pretty enough for now?” she asks with a pat on the console. The answering whirring makes her grin. “Brilliant. Oh, hey, do you have anything against me painting the outside? Just for Christmas.” Just to win this competition. “I’ll take it off afterwards, don’t worry.”</p>
<p>It takes her a few more minutes to get the TARDIS to agree to her request, but then they’re both hyping themselves up again at the mere thought.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna look so pretty!” the Doctor gushes. “Not that you’re not pretty now, of course, you look gorgeous, but you know him. He’s always a bit of a critic when it comes to this sort of thing. Really rude of him. He just can’t appreciate aesthetic.”</p>
<p>Her lovely old girl gives a beeping in agreement and the Doctor pats the doorframe. “Yeah, I know! You have a charming aesthetic going, with the blue box and all, but a cottage? I don’t know. It’s not what one would expect from someone who calls himself <em>‘The Master’</em> unironically, is it?”</p>
<p>Giggling slightly, the Doctor ducks out again, to get vortex-proof paint. If she’s doing this, she's gonna do it right .</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Covered in paint, hair in disarray and pine needles all over her clothes, the Doctor finishes the last touch on the TARDIS exterior and then steps back with a wide grin. Oh, this looks utterly <strong>brilliant</strong>!</p>
<p>“What do you think, old girl?” she says when she enters.</p>
<p>The TARDIS gives a hum of happiness and the Doctor’s grin widens. “Right?! There is no way he’s winning this thing.” She skips over to the console and flicks a few switches. “How about we go and show him how much he’s gonna lose this, huh?”</p>
<p>Before she can pull the final lever, however, a bright light flashes. She spins over and checks the screens. Distress signal.</p>
<p>For a moment, the Doctor hesitates. Then she changes coordinates. “Alright, we’ll go deal with this. And after that, we’ll show him up.” And they’re off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Answering a distress call on her own might've been the worst idea she has had in a while, the Doctor thinks, weakly reaching out for the lever to get her and the TARDIS off-world again. Two minutes in and things went wrong.</p>
<p>How was she supposed to know?! If she’d known, she wouldn’t have come alone. She’d have taken the Master with her. With him by her side, surely they would have been able to save more than the handful of people she got out before heavily-armed guards appeared and started shooting wildly into the crowd of escaping, panicking innocents.</p>
<p>The Doctor’s legs give out and she slumps to the floor. A low whimper slips past her lips and she presses her hand harder against the bleeding stomach wound. Shit.</p>
<p>Her TARDIS gives a low whining beep and the Doctor lets out a weak chuckle. “Sorry, old girl… Don’t think I can… can move to pilot. And I don’t think we’ll win the decoration contest after all.” Unless he views the scorch marks and blown-out Christmas lights as pretty, in which case she might still have a shot.</p>
<p>Her eyelids flutter. Her head drops onto the metal floor and another whimper leaves her lips. Damn it, she had hoped… She hoped she had a few more years in this body. She likes it. But now? Gold sparks are already tingling, ready to burn through her, remake her, but she grits her teeth and fights them down. It's just a little stomach wound. She can... she can...</p>
<p>With an insistent beeping, the TARDIS takes off.</p>
<p>“W-what are you…?” the Doctor gasps, cracking open one eye. The lights around her are flashing blue and she gets an impression of <em>‘stay awake now, Thief, help will come’</em>.</p>
<p>She lets her eye fall shut again. “’Kay, I’ll… try…”</p>
<p>It gets harder and harder to stay conscious. Her mind keeps drifting, slipping, thoughts going hazier and hazier until she’s only distantly aware of the cold floor beneath her and the nudges every now and then, making her jerk up, but every time a little less.</p>
<p>With a loud rumble, the old girl lands and immediately starts blaring an alarm.</p>
<p>It barely takes a minute before the doors open and the Master strides in. “Your TARDIS looks like it went through a volcano, Doctor, and why are your alarms…?”</p>
<p>He cuts off at the same time as the alarms, eyes trailing over the pretty columns and Christmas lights before they catch sight of the Doctor, curled up on the floor, blood pooling around her, eyes trained on him slowly fluttering close. All mockery drops from his voice and posture as he hurries over to her and falls to his knees by her side.</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>His hands flutter over her bloody hands pressed to the stomach wound, helpless for a moment. Then the Master reaches out and touches her clammy skin, strokes her hair back. “Doctor?”</p>
<p>She whimpers and leans into his hand. “Kosch?”</p>
<p>He’s here. He’s here… She’s so glad he’s here with her.</p>
<p>And then she faints.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Doctor wakes up feeling like she’s wrapped in cotton but very much still in her own body. Her head is heavy and light at the same time and it takes her a few minutes to get her eyes to open. When she finally does, it’s to find a familiar body slumped on the bed by her side. It’s him.</p>
<p>He’s here.</p>
<p>She tries to reach for him but her hands won’t cooperate. So instead, she tries to open her mouth and call his name. Her tongue feels like dead weight in her mouth. Eventually, though, she manages to make a little croaking noise.</p>
<p>The Master shifts, makes a small noise and frowns. His eyes open and then he’s staring right at her. Quickly, those soft brown orbs clear of any tiredness as he shoots up and cups her cheek. “You’re awake,” he breathes.</p>
<p>When the Doctor only manages a weak hum, his eyes soften even further.</p>
<p>“Shh, don’t try to talk or move just yet. You’re heavily drugged. I had to…” His voice wavers. “You were bleeding so much, Doctor, and you looked like you were in agony the whole way to the med-bay.”</p>
<p>Was she? She doesn’t remember that at all.</p>
<p>Carefully, the Master gets closer, tangles their fingers together and then tilts his head to the side a little. Questioning. Asking for permission.</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>The Doctor moves her head towards him, the most she can manage, which honestly is a pitiful amount of space, and he leans forward to let their foreheads connect.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Contact.’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Contact.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘How are you feeling, luv?’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Light and heavy.’</em>
</p>
<p>He chuckles. <strong><em>‘Very helpful.’</em></strong></p>
<p>
  <em>‘Like I’m wrapped in cotton. Cotton candy. Soft and sweet and sticky.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Your mind is a weird place, Doctor, but I’m happy to hear you’re still you.’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p><em>‘Rude.’</em> She tries to frown at him but fails. <em>‘I’m feeling… alright. No pain.’</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Good.’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>She can feel his worry abate slightly.</p>
<p><strong><em>‘You were toeing the line a few times,’</em></strong> he reveals quietly. <strong><em>‘I stitched you up and had to fight off gold sparks three times. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.’</em></strong></p>
<p><em>‘But I did. I’m fine.’</em> And… <em>‘You’re here.’</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘I’m here.’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>And that’s enough for her.</p>
<p><strong><em>‘What did you do to your TARDIS, by the way?’</em></strong> There is incredulity dripping from his voice.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Huh?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘The paint job beneath the scorch marks. And the candy cane pillars. Really?’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Her nose twitches. <em>‘Well, I was gonna win. She looks pretty like that. You can’t deny she looks pretty and Christmas-y and better than yours.’</em></p>
<p><strong><em>‘I certainly </em></strong>can<strong><em> deny that. My TARDIS still looks better than yours. Especially since mine doesn’t have </em></strong>scorch marks<strong><em>. Seriously, what did you do?’</em></strong></p>
<p>
  <em>‘Distress call, just when I was finishing up painting… I thought it’d be quick, get there, save some people, get back here and win.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Your life is never that easy, Doctor.’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>She narrows her eyes at him.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Oh, shut up.’</em>
</p>
<p>He grins down at her. <strong><em>‘Never.’</em></strong></p>
<p>She sighs. She doesn’t mind, really, but it’s the principle of the thing.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘So what went wrong? And why did you get shot?’</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Omescud, their last slave planet. I got a few people out before the guards realized something was amiss and opened fire into the crowd. Got hit. Got out, barely, and the old girl brought me back. And then you were there. And then I don’t remember anything.’</em>
</p>
<p>The Master snarls and pulls back a little, hand tightening around hers. <strong><em>‘Scuds? And you went on your own? Looking like </em></strong>this<strong><em>?!’</em></strong></p>
<p>The Doctor sniffs. <em>‘I didn’t realize until I was halfway through the rescue mission, and by then it was too late already.’</em></p>
<p>A hand runs through her hair and she relaxes into it.</p>
<p>“You’re an idiot, Doctor,” he breathes before pressing a soft kiss against her forehead.</p>
<p>“’M not,” she sniffs.</p>
<p>“You really are. And now, sleep.” She doesn’t fight the tiredness sweeping over her. He’s by her side, after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So… Wanna help me re-paint the TARDIS?” the Doctor asks, slowly shuffling over to the Master’s sofa and easing herself onto it. He glances up at her with a grin. “Why? I already won, we’ve established that before. Several times.”</p>
<p>She scrunches her face up. “We haven't, you just keep on saying it when I’m distracted with something else and can’t disprove you. But we both know my TARDIS looks better. Candy cane pillars! Pretty fairy lights! Snowflakes on the windows! How is that not better than your… stupid decorations?”</p>
<p>His decorations aren’t stupid. They’re pretty damn amazing, actually, but there is <strong>no way</strong> the Doctor is going to admit it.</p>
<p>“Liar. You and I both know that you could never top the radiant glow of my TARDIS’ decorations. Have you <strong>seen</strong> the sled?”</p>
<p>She has. It’s brilliant. It’s parked on his roof. How did he even <strong>come up</strong> with that?!</p>
<p>“Hey, you gotta give me credit, though. You’ve got a cottage and I’ve got a phone box. It’s way harder to decorate a phone box and make it incredibly pretty than it is to make a cottage pretty,” she tries to convince him.</p>
<p>The Master only laughs at her. “Come on, Doctor. Admit defeat and I’ll help you redecorate and re-paint.”</p>
<p>A few more moments, the Doctor hesitates. Then she gives in.</p>
<p>“Alright, your TARDIS looks better. Now help me.”</p>
<p>He chuckles and grabs her outstretched hand to pull her off the sofa again. “Of course, luv.” She lets herself fall into his chest and rest there for a moment. Her legs are a bit weak. Not surprising, given that the hole in her stomach is still healing.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna have to do most of if, you know that, right?” she murmurs with a little grin. “Unless you want me to rip the stitches.”</p>
<p>With a chuckled sigh, the Master nudges her chin up so they look at each other. “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To have me decorate your TARDIS because we both know I’m a genius at decorating.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Yes. He’s pretty awesome at it. The sled was the last nail in the coffin of her creativity. Seriously, a <strong>sled</strong>! How brilliant is <strong>that</strong>?!</p>
<p>He just grins down at her. With a sniff, the Doctor leans up and presses a short kiss to his lips. “You’re insufferable,” she mutters.</p>
<p>“Says the one making me decorate for her,” he retorts, chasing after her mouth to prolong and deepen the kiss. The Doctor moans against his lips and grabs onto his coat to keep upright. She thought her legs were weak before, but now…</p>
<p>His arm around her waist keeps her up when she starts crumbling. “I’ve got you, luv. I’ve got you.” And then suddenly she’s in his arms, legs dangling in the air, clinging to his shoulders.</p>
<p>“A little warning next time, please?” she huffs and relaxes against his chest.</p>
<p>“Aw, but I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I, Doctor?”</p>
<p>She chuckles. “Currently, you’re not even doing <strong>that</strong>. My toes are off the floor.”</p>
<p>The Master rolls his eyes and doesn’t deign that with a response as he carries her out of his TARDIS and carefully sets her down on the bench on his porch, wrapping a soft blanket around her shoulders while she snuggles into the pillows at her back.</p>
<p>“You stay here, I decorate your TARDIS, how about it?”</p>
<p>She smiles at him, trying not to grin, and pecks his cheek. “Thank you, dear.”</p>
<p>As she watches him walk over to her old girl, gently patting the doors as he asks for permission to be let in, which she grants with a moment of hesitation, the Doctor smiles.</p>
<p>He’s here. He’s still here, and he doesn’t seem in any rush to leave her alone.</p>
<p>Besides, she thinks the beautiful decoration on his TARDIS would be thrown into the vortex should he try to take off, and he’s put too much work into it to just leave. Now, if only he makes <strong>her</strong> TARDIS this pretty...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—o—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what do you think? Is she decorated to your satisfaction, Doctor?” he asks, falling on the bench next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.</p>
<p>The Doctor leans into the embrace and smiles.</p>
<p>“Definitely. She looks brilliant.” She does. And, judging by the pleased beep they can clearly hear from where the TARDIS is parked, the old girl agrees with the assessment.</p>
<p>“Thank you, dear.”</p>
<p>She leans over and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, watches his grin soften into a smile, and rests her head on his shoulder. She’s so happy he’s here. She’s so happy they’re here, together.</p>
<p>And she’s especially happy about the sparkling of their TARDISes next to each other.</p>
<p>“Not a problem, luv,” the Master says, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and then resting his own head against hers.</p>
<p>Together, they watch the Christmas lights blink merrily, in perfect synchrony with their hearts, and the Doctor knows that this is where she belongs.</p>
<p>Right here, in his arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">The End</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a hard time writing the ending. It kept being stupid or too angsty. But I'm pretty happy with the way it is right now.</p>
<p>Watch me keysmash all my alien planets and species.<br/>Seriously, that's all I did. Omescud? Scud? I have no idea.<br/>Alright, apparently scuds are a thing. Some weird amphipod-thing? I don't know, biology is not my strong suit. Here, they are a race of slavers, with twenty-four slave planets, the last of which is Omescud (because Omega is letter number twenty-four and ome-scud sounds like Omega and Scud... creative, right?)</p>
<p>If I had any artistic talent, I certainly would have drawn the TARDIS painted. Or given any kind of hint at what was painted. I don't know what looks good and what doesn't. I imagine maybe a Christmas tree on one side? And snowmen? A reindeer? Something pretty and Christmas-y but also something incredibly Doctor-y. Just... let your imagination run wild, yeah?<br/>(And we all know the Doctor sat on that bench yelling suggestions at the Master while he re-decorated the TARDIS. He had to shut her up several times because her ideas were horrible.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I'll probably post something tomorrow. I have a little bit written already, hoping I'll finish it today.<br/>(Goodbye, sweet, sweet Morpheus, it was nice knowing your embrace!)<br/>And after that... Well, my plan is 16, 17, maybe 18 and 19, definitely 20, maybe 23 and possibly 25.<br/>It is very likely that I won't write something for all of them, but I'll try. And that's what counts, right? Hehe, just kidding, writing counts, too. And I honestly love this. Writing for these prompts is one of the few things keeping my spirits up this month.</p>
<p>Anyway.<br/>Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your masks!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>